Without a Trace
by jrba95
Summary: The only person Zuko wants to find more than the Avatar is his mother. Will he ever find her? Complete! First couple chapters are one shots, the last three are plot! R/R!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This would originally have gone in my bigger piece: _Getting the Gaang Back Together. _ Reviews give me encouragement, good or bad! This takes place during Zuko's time in Ba Sing Se in Book 2 and after the finale.

Chapter One: Without a Trace

Under the moonless sky the refugees slept in darkness. Their emaciated, but hopeful, bodies lay side by side in the cramped ferry station as they dreamed of the boat that would carry them to safety on the first transport of the morning. Guttural snores were the only noises that polluted the night air and the peculiar green glow of the lantern of the exit was the only light. These disguises offered the Blue Spirit just enough opportunity to snake his way through the sea of weary people.

He held his breath as he scurried through crooked legs and carelessly tossed luggage. Sweat clung to the inside of the mask as he nervously tip-toed towards a thinner part of the crowd, his eyes set straight for the room with the heavy deadbolt on the door. When the perspiration began to drip uncomfortable into his eyes he lifted his mask for a split moment to wipe his brow, revealing a ruby red scar and a determined scowl.

"Hey!" a fierce whisper pierced the silence like a bloodcurdling scream. Zuko whipped his head around, his heart beating thumping heavily in his chest, and threw his hand over his back to firmly grip the handles of his Dual Dao. He squint his eyes, trying to peer through the darkness that disguised his foe.

"Down here," the whisper hissed again. Zuko looked down, irritated, saw a small boy lying down at his feet. The child was no more than five and was tucked tightly underneath the crook of his father's arm. He looked up at the Blue Spirit with a crooked smile of mischief on his face. "Whatcha' doin'," he questioned in a voice that was slightly above a whisper.

Zuko furiously collapsed down on his knees and pressed his mask very close to the boy's pudgy nose. "Go to sleep, young one," he hissed, menacingly. "Or you'll regret messing with the demons that play in the dark."

The boy swallowed heavily and his eyes that were wide with apprehension slammed shut to feign sleep. With a shake of his head, the Blue Spirit erected himself once more and continued to creep towards his destination.

Anxiously, he clasped his gloved hand over the handle of the door and looked around frantically to see if anyone had spotted him. When he was satisfied with the still lump of bodies, he turned his head up to the balcony and smiled when he saw that all the guards that were supposed to be on watch were slumped over in their seats, sleeping deeply.

Without wasting another moment of time, he ripped of the glove of the hand clasping the door and willed a white hot force from his fingertips. He covered his flame with his dark frame to shield the light he was creating from the sleeping refugees. Slowly, the metal of the deadbolt began to melt away like tears on a cheek and solidified in the steel food bowl that Zuko had hoarded from supper. When the door creaked open with an eerie squeak, Zuko smiled and squeezed into the gap like a snake into a hole.

A ball of fire erupted in his palm, eliminating the room with a dim orange light. Zuko's eyes panned the walls of the large office room. Bamboo cabinets and file drawers hugged the perimeter of the expansive room, defiled by gashes and scratches inflicted by heavy activity. This was the control room of the whole secret operation. People have been fleeing to Ba Sing Se for decades, and all of their names lie somewhere in this room. There were thousands! Zuko swallowed heavily as he took in to vastness of the room before him. He knew he was willing to go through every single file to find her name.

The lightly touched his finger to a ledge of fire jelly, causing a chain reaction that illuminated the store room. Immediately, he went to work. The first file his fingers flew to belonged to the storage cabinet of seven years ago. As he clutched the hefty scroll in his hand, he was shocked to realize that it had only been seven years since he had seen his mother. It seemed like yesterday; it felt like a hundred years. When he was with his mother he had never know war. Without her he felt the entire century in seven devastating years. Zuko scowled darkly, cursing himself for the slight release of sensitive emotions, and then ripped open the scroll and scanned the page with meticulous eyes.

The file was organized by day rather than alphabetically, so whenever his eyes rested on a _U _his heart began to flutter in anticipation. But _Ursa _never appeared on the list. Furious, he slammed the file drawer shut, but his heart caught in his throat as he waited for the tremendous noise to stop reverberating off of the metal walls. _Quit being stupid,_ he commanded himself. _Keep looking. _

_Six years, five years, four, three, two._

_She's not here, _Zuko told himself, for what seemed like the millionth time. He stared at the elderly pages until his eyes were so dry that he felt like they'd shriveled like raisins. He'd read hundreds, if not thousands of names; his mother was not one of them. _What, _Zuko chastised himself, _did you think that she would use her actual name? You should know firsthand that that would be a deadly mistake. _He knew that, like so many things before, he had let his desires get in front of his common sense. He hated when Uncle was right.

Furiously, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into a tight fist. Angry fire was singing his stomach and surging through his veins, but he reined it in. He had gone seven years without his mother; he could go a few days more. _More of what,_ he seethed. _More scrounging around like an animal; more living Uncle's wild delusion about us actually surviving in this place? _

He shook his head and lithely rose to his feet. Once again, he donned his mask and ousted the fire jelly he had lit hours before. _Just because you can't find her record here doesn't mean she's not in the city, _Zuko tried to assure himself. It didn't work. Quickly, he exited the room after making sure that not even the slightest hint of his presence was left behind. He mended the lock on the door; sure it would be welded together now, but most likely one of the brutish Earth people would be able to release the bolt. What did he care: Once again, he had failed. He wasn't going to let that stop him though.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hey I'm back. Thank you to everyone that read. This probably could have been the first chapter, but I didn't think about it until like right now :-/This fanfiction's purpose, as a whole, is to basically fill in some of the cracks pertaining to Zuko/Ursa issue. It's either going to have five or six chapters. Nice and short, but good! Enjoy!_

Chapter Two: Memories

(Seven Years Ago to Present)

"Where is she?" Zuko faced his father, indignantly, his fists clenched. His father did not look at him, so he didn't feel the need to wipe the tears from his face. He didn't feel them anyway; he hadn't felt anything but pain since he realized his mother was nowhere to be found.

"Father," Zuko repeated. His voice cracked, but he didn't care. "Where is mom?"

The older man just stood rigidly, his eyes fixed on the turtle-duck pond. Zuko knew that this impassive and firm stance meant that his father was deep in thought. He knew very well that this could either be a good or a very bad thing.

He opted for the latter.

But when his father took a heavy breath, Zuko saw a leak of emotion spring from him from the first time. He very nearly expected Ozai to turn around with tears on his face to match his son's. When he did turn, Zuko could have sworn that for a moment he saw remose and pain in the man's eyes. But as their identical golden gaze met each other, Ozai's stare turned from one of weakness to one of power, greed, and triumph. The mighty strength within him smote out all remnants of sadness. Now, Zuko's fear heightened a little more.

Ozai stepped forward, lightly and directly, and put a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. Zuko shuddered. "What need does the _future _Fire Lord have for a mother?" Ozai whispered smoothly into his ear. Zuko gasped and looked at his father incredulously. Now, Ozai's voice grew coarser. "She was making you weak. I will make you strong. Consider her leaving her last gift to you."

He left his son standing alone by the small pond. His frame was weak and broken. Defeated. Zuko gazed into the crystal surface of the pond's water, dying to see his mother's face in the reflection. He only saw the ripples that were formed from his flowing tears.

* * *

><p>He was back in his room. It was dark. And so was his mind. Mother was gone. And so was his light. The room seemed so meaningless and frivolous, now. He would trade every single possession he owned to see his mother again. Even his favored knife that Uncle gave him. He looked to the stand on the wall where it was usually kept, and was shocked to discover that it wasn't there. <em>Why is everything of mine disappearing, <em>Zuko thought. Ferociously, he roared and stormed from the room. _Azula. _

Zuko first new something was wrong when he saw Azula's handmaidens just idling about. The young women were flocked in a jovial circle, gossiping blatantly about the tumultuous events.

"I can't believe that old bag just dropped off and died!"

" 'Bout time. But don't you think it's a bit convenient that Fire Lady Ursa would just flee for no reason. Sound a bit suspicious, no?"

The foolish women giggled. "Yes, a bit _too _suspicious."

Zuko's blood boiled when he listened to the women's flippant chatter. They didn't know. They didn't care. They didn't feel his pain. He was a Fire Prince; he wouldn't let them blaspheme his mother that way! Zuko approached them fiercly, his fists balled up, and his face cramped in a cruel snarl. But what he heard behind Azula's door quieted him.

Azula's door was closed tightly shut, rare for such a boastful child. The opulence of her room was always on display, according to her request. He laid a wary ear to the door and heard a noise he thought was impossible: Azula was crying. Tantrums were not unknown for Azula, and were usually of catastrophic proportions, but never in private and alone. She was screaming vicious curses and growling like a wounded lioness. And amongst all of the commotion, Azula only took a pause from her bestial rants to sob miserable.

Zuko's mouth fell agape in amazement. He was hesitant, and remorseful, for what he was about to do. He knocked on the door.

"Azula?" he whispered, warily. The only response was Azula's incessant raving. Zuko breathed in and out slowly, then opened the door.

Azula knelt in the middle of the floor. Her shoulders were shaking violently as bloodcurdling screams racked through her. What shocked Zuko even more than his sister's revelation of weakness was the debacle her room had turned into. All of the expensive feathers from her pillows and mattress were scattered, singed and shredded, on every inch of floor. Every ceramic was shattered, every wall was charred, every painting of mom was ripped and burning in piles on the floor. What horrified Zuko was the heads: every doll that Azula had ever received, and detested, from her mother lay decapitated and slashed like a slaughtered wartime village.

The defenseless doll that was currently playing victim to the tyrannical Azula was the doll that Ursa had most recently given her daughter for her ninth birthday. Her face was ceramic and painted perfectly, the hair came from the finest of emu-horses, and the intricate clothes were sewn by Mother herself. Azula raised Zuko's knife high over her head and plunged it into the delicate head of the doll. It shattered into a million pieces. She raised the knife again and stabbed the doll in the stomach, spilling its feathered innards. "I hate you! I hate you! **I always hated you!" **Azula screamed so demonically it sounded like a drowning gurgle.

Zuko couldn't have been more horrified of his deranged sister if she were slaughtering an actual human being. Fresh tears were coursing down his cheek anew, and he stifled a horrified sob. He fled from the room; he would get his knife later.

* * *

><p>The turtle-duck pond seemed so devoid of life without his mother constantly tending to it and glorifying it with her presence. It was nearly as forgotten as his mother's soft voice. Every so often Zuko went to take a fleeting glimpse at the innocent creatures. They swam and quacked and cared diligently for young; it was if Ursa's presence hadn't affected them at all. Zuko envied them.<p>

Then another memory of the pond flittered into his mind: A flaming apple, a massive splash, limbs intertwined. Zuko turned his head to peer across the yard where Azula and Ty Lee were playing, attack versus flee, and Mai was spectating with a bored expression. As Mai's eyes were drawn to the cherry blossoms reaching the sky like pink flames, Zuko's eyes were attracted to the way she was perched so gracefully, with her hip jutting out just so.

Slowly, with that ever constant impassive expression, Mai's gaze rolled to meet Zuko's. Zuko spun around so abruptly, that Mai didn't even know that he was watching her. The boy cursed his pale skin for blushing so readily. He groaned in utter embarrassment and fled the courtyard. His mother would know what to do.

* * *

><p>Pain. <em>I've lost. I'm no one. I'm not even Zuko. I'm no one. I've lost everything. <em>Even hours later, the memory of his scream filled his ears. The heat of the fire was on his face and would not be extinguished no matter what the physicians did. The pain in his heart was just as bad; his home had been ripped from him as brusquely as one would rip off flesh.

Pain. Shame. _I had begged and pled as Father approached me with his violent hand. I had screamed and wept as the flesh melted off of my face. I heard people's laughter. If anyone felt pity, I didn't hear them. _

Banishment: his father's booming voice addressed the audience over the painful howls of his son. Ozai hadn't just taken Zuko's face that day, but his heart as well.

Uncle wanted to visit. Zuko said no. Azula walked in assertively without anyone's permission at all; no doubt with giving Iroh a smug look before she entered the infirmary. Zuko could see the smile on her face through the taunting tone of her voice. He drowned out every word she uttered. "Newsflash from Dad," she sneered. "Find the Avatar and he'll let you come back." She laughed, maliciously. "See, I told you he's always hated you. I guess it's just in your nature to learn things the hard way."

_Look at me now, Mom. I've disobeyed you and forgotten who I am. Sorry._

* * *

><p><em><strong>This is going nowhere!<strong>__ The Avatar is dead…maybe I could find mom. I am traveling through every corner of the world after all. _

"Prince Zuko, we've reached the Eastern Air Temple."

"I'll be there in a minute, Uncle."

* * *

><p><em>This might take some time, <em>Zuko thought, horrified. The rumbly train lurched forward slowly as they approached Ba Sing Se. Though the forest of black and dark green tiles of the Lower Ring was their destination, Zuko couldn't help but look in awe at the large expanse of life in front of them. As far as the eye could see there were buildings varying from tiles of vibrant yellow to black. Patches of vegetation spread all the way to bustling metropolis buildings. Yet, Zuko couldn't see past the mighty wall that separated the Lower Ring from the Middle Ring. His uncle had raved to him about the expanse and opulence Middle and Inner Rings, despite never actually being there himself. Zuko couldn't help but believe that Ba Sing Se would stretch to the very ends of the Earth.

_This is going to take some time, Mom._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This chapter is going to have Jin in it (love her) and has to do when Zuko is in Ba Sing Se. Short chappie…sorta angsty. I think this chapter shows a little bit of Zuko's acceptance with his loss. Can someone please REVIEW! I'll update faster if you do 8-D_

Chapter Three: Feigning Normalcy

He'd really done it this time. Zuko's stomach was collapsing in on itself like a deflated circus tent, but there was nothing fun about this! The second he heard the bell attached to the front door tinkle cheerfully, he felt the daunting surge of blood upon his neck and cheek. Ultimate speed learned from years of diligent training allowed him to shrink behind the counter. But it was too late: Uncle Iroh had seen him blush the moment Jin strolled through the door. The menacing look Zuko shot his uncle was deflected by a cheery, knowing smile.

_I obviously wasn't clear enough yesterday, _Zuko thought to himself as he tugged anxiously at his shaggy hair. _There is absolutely no way that we could ever have anything together! _As thoughts of the awkward dinner and the even more awkward conversations flashed before his eyes, the blush flared hotter on his pale cheeks. He was horrified at his actions: Firebending in front of an Earth Kingdom commoner! Had this uncivilized society finally gotten to his head? And the kiss…

He strained his eyes to look at her through the flaking bamboo leaves that shabbily covered the counter. Like every other day she sat there placidly and sipped her tea. A cumbersome laundry basket was shoved under her table, and Zuko dreamily remembered how she smelled like crisp laundry soap. He immediately slapped his forehead: What was this girl doing to him?

Suddenly his uncle crouched down to his level with the glare of a domineering general on his face. "Nephew, what do you think you're doing," Iroh hissed. Zuko was shocked for a moment; it was rare that Iroh looked so outraged. "If you are just going to sit there and let that pretty girl flutter in and out of your life, then you are not the man I raised you to be!" Zuko looked at the old man incredulously. Exasperated, he grabbed his nephew by his arm and yanked him to his feet. Before Zuko even had a chance to snap back at him, he thrust a tea tray in his hand and began to lead him over to Jin's table like a timid child.

The bemused grin on Jin's face made Zuko blush so heatedly that he could have sworn that his face was on fire. His mouth fell agape, but inside he was fervently cursing himself because he knew that there was nothing intelligent that he could possibly say to the girl he had shared his first kiss with the night before. All those years of fearless training and fighting in battle were for nothing; he wasn't even brave enough to talk to a girl.

He felt eternally grateful to his uncle when he began to speak and direct attention away from Zuko's shell shocked expression. Iroh bowed like a perfectly trained gentleman. "I am honored to see our favorite customer back in the shop." Zuko's eyes were glued precariously to her face. Though Iroh was the one speaking, Jin only had eyes for him. However, it struck Zuko odd that this girl wasn't looking at his scar but rather at his eyes. Usually, people couldn't see anything else except his wound. She was just growing more and more…interesting by the minute.

"Lee!" Iroh curtly elbowed him in the ribs and gestured for him to set down the tea tray. "I know this woman is beautiful, but remember that you are being paid!" Jin giggled and Zuko's eyes widened in sheer horror. His hands shook and the metal tea pot tinkled as he lowered it on to her table. He couldn't look her in the eye for fear of betraying his fear. _Ok, now I can leave, _he thought, relieved, as soon as he had set down the tray. But to his dismay, Iroh caught him by the tail of his smock and held him tightly in place.

"My, my," the old man cooed. "That looks like quite a heavy load of laundry you have there, Jin. Surely we can't have you walking about Ba Sing Se with such a burden. I'm sure Lee would be delighted to help you get to your destination."

Zuko's amber eyes were murderous. He knew Jin was smiling, humbly as always, and she knew immediately what her answer would be.

"If he wouldn't mind, that would be wonderful. It shouldn't take me long to finish my tea," Jin said graciously. He words were always soft and inviting to Zuko's ears. If he got any more tangled in her web, he would never be able to fight his way out. Still, he nodded submissively. He looked to his uncle, desperately seeking permission to go back to work, but Iroh was nowhere to be found. Quick as a flash, he had retreated behind the counter and was already joking with some of the patrons.

Zuko's throat filled with a low growl. "You can sit down if you want." Jin shocked him out of his rage. He spun to face her and was surprised to see the inviting smile on her tanned face. "Like I said, I won't be long…you might as well sit down." As if she were as intimidating as the fire lord, yet alluring as a singing siren, Zuko immediately obeyed her request and sat down across from her. Awkwardly he picked at his finger nails until they were pristine. He couldn't have looked at her if she asked him to. But he could tell that she was looking at him.

"You're so lucky, Lee," Jin mused, kindly, as she sipped her tea. "Your uncle is such a kind man. I think if everyone had a Mushi with them when they came to Ba Sing Se, the Lower Ring would be slightly less depressing, as impossible as it sounds."

This was it; his turn to say something. "Who did you come here with?" Six words…at least it wasn't rude.

Jin twirled her tea cup, allowing the herbs to sway in the broth. "Just my sister Fe. She's seven, so she stays around home with the neighbor's kids when I'm collecting people's laundry."

For the first time, Zuko looked up at her, seriously. He scanned her round face, devoid of all sadness, and her glittering green eyes. She couldn't be a day over sixteen and the war made a mother out of her. When she continued her eyes looked distant and every word pierced Zuko's heart. "Our parents and brothers…were left behind. But we're ok, Fe and I." She leaned closer to Zuko and said empathetically, "Is there anyone you and Mushi had to leave behind. Most everyone has somebody."

Zuko shut his eyes, painfully and vividly saw the turtle duck pond and the smile of a distantly familiar face. He could hardly remember who that face belonged to anymore. "Quite the contrary," he murmured. "I was the one left behind." They were silent for a long time, listening to the low roar of the customers in the tea shop. Slowly, Zuko rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you ready to go?" he barked. Jin nodded.

They walked to Jin's apartment in silence. Jin couldn't help but look at him helplessly as Zuko lumbered through the busy street with the mountain of clothes. The masses of emaciated people bustling through the Lower Ring knocked Zuko about carelessly until he was teetering dangerously. Jin couldn't help but grin when she heard him curse viciously under his breath. Only once did she ask him if he needed any help, but after he roared a denial, Jin just smirked and wondered if yelling was a common occurrence of his.

From behind a shield of foul smelling laundry, Zuko couldn't see where he was going in the slightest. Only Jin's hand, gently guiding him by slight pressure on the small of his back allowed him to see. He had shirked from it at first. Not because he was declining her presence, but because her touch made his stomach burn like a raging flame. How could it be possible that and Earth Kingdom peasant was doing this to him. Cautiously, she led him up the rotting steps that led to her apartment located at the top of a dilapidated building. The drunken and angry curses and cries weren't foreign to any part of the Lower Ring, but it pained Zuko to know that this young girl and her even younger sister were left unprotected in this hazardous part of the world. And then he remembered that he was now a part of this world too; a fact that often made his blood boil.

He tried to peer around the pile of clothes to see how many keys exactly did it take Jin to unlock her door, but he was caught off balance and at least four stained shirts from the top fluttered down to Jin's feet. She laughed and swept the clothing in her arm while pushing the door open with her toe. "C'mon Lee," she chimed. "How about you just drop the basket inside the door? I'll just take care of it later."

Trying not to sound too relieved, he let the mammoth wicker basket slip from his fingers and slam to the floor. His arms ached but his face was so emotionless that no one would have known. He stole a look at Jin's face and was shocked to find that she looked slightly nervous. Zuko's whole body tensed up: _Why would she be nervous?_

Jin bit her bottom lip apprehensively, but when she noticed him looking at her, the corners of her mouth turned up into a sly smile. "I'm going to have to find a way to thank you, Lee," she said in an innocent voice as she took a step closer. He took a step back, but that didn't faze her in the slightest. 

"Yesterday, I took you to my favorite place in the city. And I don't have to make dinner for Fe for a couple hours. So where do you want to go. Go on, tell me: I know every nook and cranny of this city. Do you like to watch performances? Of course you do, you were in the circus. Or, how about books? Because the best library in the world is in the Upper Ring. Everyone has someone they hope to find in Ba Sing Se, if you're interested. And I know how to get there in record…"

Exasperated, Zuko pressed his sore fingers to Jin's lips. He hated when girls talked to much, yet there was something about her talking that he didn't mind all too much. But he still wanted her to stop. But then a light turned on in his head: _Did she say library? The best in the world? Mom. _

He turned away from Jin, and looked at the small and cramped world that filled the horizon just behind Jin's warping door. Zuko knew for a fact that he had absolutely nothing to lose by going to look at the library. _Except time and pride, _he chided himself as he scuffed the floor with his sandal. His escapade in the file room at the ferry station was a waste of time and this would be a suicide mission. Zuko's eyes couldn't tear away from the scenery before him: So many people displaced and so many lives destroyed by war. He would never find her if she didn't want to be found and he always considered her too smart to fall prey to anything.

Zuko knew that even if he went to the library with Jin and searched through every file he would never find her, even if her own file were handed to him on a silver platter. People came to Ba Sing Se after all, to find a new life, not to have the old one barging through their tightly locked doors. On that note, what if his mother purposefully didn't want to find him. With his marred reputation as a failure, he wasn't entirely impossible to find. Or what if she was dead and buried long ago and he was just upsetting himself over nothing.

With a defeated sigh, anger underlying in his breath, he stepped outside Jin's door and leaned against the fire-escape that was separating him from the mucky streets below. _What does all this matter, _Zuko sighed, _Lee doesn't have a mother after all. Zuko is as dead as his mother. _

Zuko felt a gentle touch on his shoulder just as the first drip of rain landed on his nose. Jin's presence behind him warmed him, but he still felt frigid on the inside. "Lee," Jin started cautiously. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to offend you. Mentioning the people you've lost is always a bad idea; I should've known by now." Zuko didn't reply. "I'm so sorry," Jin continued in a whisper.

Carefully, he inhaled and exhaled, mulling over the perfect words to answer her with without revealing the pain or anger that he felt within. Eventually, he was just as lost as he began. "Does it ever get any easier," he muttered, not turning to face her. "You know, being a refugee and losing every identity you had ever owned and cherished. How does life ever get better than mediocrity?"

When he heard Jin's heavy sigh behind him, his hope dropped below his toes. It was a ridiculous question to ask; how could anyone know the answer? Yet, she gripped him by the shoulder and slowly spun him to face her. His dimmed amber eyes gazed down upon her saddened green ones. She reached up to touch his face, the side with the ruinous scar, and made sure that she had firmly attracted his attention. Zuko tightened when her gentle fingers traced his scar, but was intrigued that her eyes weren't full of pity but with certainty.

"Life is all about moving forward, Lee," she cooed. "If I've learned anything, it's that. Normal isn't the same from day to day, so you have to pretend it is. War is just another harsh example of how, through all the pain and sadness, you just have to feign normalcy. Yet, at the same time you have to remember who you are."

Zuko nodded. He stepped in closer to her, his head faced down as if weighted with the heavy knowledge that she had just bestowed on him. "It's not easy," he said in a soft voice, pained with reality.

Jin smiled and squeezed his outstretched hand. "Nobody said it was."

Zuko grinned slightly, then lowered his head a little further. When his lips touched hers he felt like it was the most normal thing in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I was surprised for all the feedback and reads I got back from last chapter! I didn't think this would be very popular lol! So thank you: Reyka Sivao, seti31, and Em! If y'all liked the last chapter so much, maybe I'll do a Jinko story all on its own…one of these days. Ok so this chapter is about getting down to business. This is the second to last chapter. Enjoy! Disclaimer: the character's/ references are not mine, only the plottish type stuff is….I just figured I'd say it. (World Council*= emerged Earth Kingdom officials who had new/suspicious ideas for creating the post-war world __**created in my story: Getting the Gaang Back Together**__). _

Chapter Three: Sins at Our Hand

The celebrations lasted for the rest of the day, through the night, and Zuko was certain that they would last for the next hundred years. People had a lot of happy times to make up for, but as he gazed from his balcony on the laughing crowd below and the brilliant fireworks in every inch of the sky Zuko felt confident that a hundred years was more than enough time to make the world right again.

Despite the glowing world and the thunderous claps of the fireworks, the world seemed strangely silent. It was almost unsettling; his lifetime during the war had always seemed so—loud. Now, nestled tightly in Appa's saddle, his friends were sleeping blissfully as if the first time, the cacophonous screams of worry and despair had been quieted for the first time. Sokka and Suki were folded over the rim of the saddle; they had fallen asleep there, unable to take their eyes away from the beauty the world had become. Toph was nearby; Momo had either fallen asleep or unconscious after struggling under the crook of her arm. Zuko grinned when he noticed Ty Lee snore quietly in the tiny ball she had locked herself into. Katara was curled up peacefully next to Aang; the young boy, near sleep himself, had smiled mischievously at Zuko as he had wrapped a sly arm over Katara's sleeping frame. And, of course, Mai was nuzzled into Zuko's side and her arms were wrapped around her slim waist protectively. He admired her effortless loveliness as she dreamed. Her brick walls were cast down, then, and he could finally see into her soul. He knew more than anyone else how much of a beauty it truly was.

With a heavy sigh, he relaxed his tense muscles even further and looked at the open expanse of sky, almost begging sleep to come to him. For the life of him, he hadn't yet managed to achieve the simple tranquility that his friends had. Zuko seemed to instinctively know that being Fire Lord wouldn't be easy. A broken and confused nation was now laid on his shoulders and expected him alone to lead them into the light of the new age. He had to become the people in order to know their needs and desires to the point that he was no longer Zuko; he was the Fire Nation. He knew he wasn't alone: the help of Aang and the mysterious World Council* would be at his access. But in many other ways, he was. If the Fire Nation rose from their utter dishonor, it would be under his name; if they crashed and burned, he would be forever to blame. Zuko emitted a prolonged exhale and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. _Well, I simply cannot fail, _he thought, hesitantly, to answer his own question.

_But where do I start? _Iroh was the one who suggested an immediate vacation. Not much reconstruction could be enacted so soon anyway: POW's would be exchanged, but the Fire Nation people as a whole would be a much more dangerous matter. It was impossible, after all, to forcibly alter the direction of a surging storm. The best thing to do was to take a step back, and watch the desires of the people with a careful eye.

"So what better place to watch people than at a respectable distance in Ba Sing Se," Zuko mimicked Iroh's wise voice before yawning. It would be a convenient opportunity to consult with the old man; vacation, after all, was just a nicer way of putting 'debriefing with King Kuei and engaging in boring politics'. That would only be for a few days, however; after that his life would ultimately end. He sacrificed it for the betterment of his people; he couldn't think of a better way to finally achieve his honor if he tried. Zuko felt like he was getting married! What else could he possibly do while he was still single?

_I could look for Mom, _he mused as his eyes started to droop sleepily. At that thought, his head snapped up and he grimaced as he realized how much of a fool statement that was. Zuko had gone down that road before: Mom or the Avatar; Mom or a new life in Ba Sing Se; Mom or letting go of his past. Was he willing to let his desire for the mother who had sacrificed everything for him get in the way of the dawning of the age? The ripping sensation in his heart opened the scars of guilt and yearning that had been stabbed into his heart from so young an age. Zuko had always considered his determination a gift in a curse: He had to know where his mother was.

Cautiously, Zuko attempted to lift the weightless Mai off of his lap. He smiled for a moment as he noticed, once again, the practically cheerful expression on her face as she slept. He leaned over to lightly kiss her brow. "I can already guess what you are going to say about this, Mai," he whispered as he lifted his legs over Appa's saddle. "I hate to say it, but I think you'd probably be right." No one stirred as he nimbly slid off of the massive sky bison and sprinted off into the night.

The prison clung to the volcanic cliffs on the side of the city. It was just as ferociously guarded as the Boiling Rock, but the prisoners were much more valuable. It didn't contain the common murderer; these inmates were worth more alive than dead, despite having people prefer the later. Zuko had often braved the shady streets and steaming pipes that fenced the hellish prison when he had gone to visit he uncle during his incarceration. Revisiting this dismal path awoke feelings of guilt and shame that burned through his veins. He often thought about how much he had changed in the past few months, but knowing that such hateful deeds were parts of his life's story as well made him cringe at the utterance of his own name. His only savior was the knowledge of having successfully put the correct criminal far from the light of day.

When he crossed under the intimidating arches that introduced the prison, he only had to look the warden in the eye before he was hastily brought to his destination. When he was a prince, they had scoffed at first; as the Fire Lord he was revered. Zuko thought it was comical that such things could change overnight, but he knew to respect the fragile boundaries of such a dramatic shift. He figured that his dark cloak would be his only disguise if an enraged citizen decided to oust the traitorous fiend that they all believed him to be. He tucked it tightly around his face.

Zuko decided to wander down into the abyss alone; he knew the way. The heat of the volcanic rock caressed his skin, but unlike the sun's breath of life, the volcano triggered suffocation. It was a fitting place for the monster that these caverns contained. When the world grew unnervingly cool, he knew he'd arrived.

Tucked away, far from the light of day and the people who hated him with a burning passion, a fallen man sat adjacent to the cold iron bars that encased him like an animal. Yet, Zuko could see no more rabid fight in this man. He was a lion in a cage, his body was still but his eyes scorched everything they rested on. The eyes were all that was left of him; his frame seemed weak and emaciated, even after only a week of captivity. With a sickening churn of his stomach, Zuko wondered how much longer his father would last. He felt confused of whether he cared or not.

From the dim light of the lantern on the wall, Zuko could have sworn that he saw a pained smirk on his father's face. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," his raspy voice sounded in the dank room. "I figured you'd come crawling to me one of these days." Ozai always sounded like a crocodile-snake to Zuko, but now he knew that the older man had finally lost his true bite. His words, though, could still leave poisonous wounds.

Zuko knew to be strong. There was no possible way that this creature sitting before his feet could hurt his pride when he had none left himself. "That day is not today, Father," Zuko purred in a menacingly low voice. "Like so many other things, you are mistaken."

Ozai roared, and Zuko knew that if he had any fire left within him then he would have born another scar. "Then you have come to gloat like the arrogant pig you are," the fallen king growled, clawing at the floor with his broken nails. "So little Zuko has finally accomplished something for once in his life? I can't wait until it blows up in your face." His last words screeched through his cracked lips and Zuko saw the true insanity of this man. He still couldn't scrounge up a scrap of pity for him; not yet.

Zuko's lips turned up in a knowing grin. He dared to take a step closer to the iron bars. "In that respect, Father, like so many other things regarding myself—you will be disappointed."

There was silence. When Ozai shuffled in the darkness, Zuko saw his blood shot eyes illuminated. For the first time in the prince's life, he looked as ugly on the outside as he was on the in. "Then you are a fool," he breathed so faintly, that his son could hardly hear him. The next words hung an air of defeat around each syllable: "Why are you here then. You have no purpose here anymore. Or are you just as sadistic as the rest of your kin and choose to view your father and sister like caged animals in a freak show?"

For a moment, Zuko forgot his purpose completely. His father's visage had wiped his previous determination from his consciousness and filled him with blinding anger. With a soothing breath, his resolve returned and his next look at his father was filled with humorous indifference.

"You're wrong." Zuko's voice was almost taunting. "You may have no purpose whatsoever to the world, but to me…you owe me."

"I owe you noth…"

"You owe me everything!" Zuko cursed himself as his voice rose from a cool tone to a rumbling roar. "You ruined my innocence and life, and…"  
>"Oh, typical Zuko," Ozai squawked. He rose to his knees and clung to the bars with a manic strength. "Feeling sorry for your little self! We've been through this before; I regret <em>nothing<em>!"

"And I don't regret this!" Zuko felt his blood boiling like molten lava. His fingertips began to feel heated and ticklish as if they were about to spontaneous combust into murderous flame. He could end the man before him as easy as he could oust a candle. Then he caught the glint of fear in his father's powerful eyes; he never thought he would see it, but now he knew it actually existed.

His next breath released all of the surging steam within him. _You know better than this, _Zuko chastised himself. He has learned so much in the past months; he learned a great deal about revenge. Once again Ozai had made him forget his purpose tonight. He shook his head and lowered his fist.

"And I don't regret this," Zuko said again, in a voice as smooth as a flowing stream. "I don't regret celebrating my rebirth. And I assure you, you are _not _my father."

Ozai scoffed and crossed his arms. "But like I said," Zuko continued in the same cool voice, "You owe me." Zuko leaned down to the bars and looked the fallen king dead in the eyes. "Where is my mother?"

Ozai didn't answer. He crawled on his calloused hands and knees into the darkest corner of his cell and lay down on the threadbare blanket on hay that was all he had to call his own. Zuko bit his lip to keep him from losing his patience.

"As the _former_ Fire Lord, you show know that it isn't wise to stretch my patience. Where is my mother?"

Silence. Zuko's knuckles grew white and he gnawed at his lip until he tasted blood. From the darkness, he heard Ozai draw a breath.

"You need me for that?" Ozai hissed. He almost sounded disappointed. "Why would I help you with such a fool task?"

"I'll have you tortured," Zuko burst out in a blind rage.

"Then you are no better than me, and I've won!" Ozai replied simply. "Your mother was weak and you know it."

"Love is weak?"

"You are proof of that. You should be glad she left. You see? Now you are strong! _I made you strong._"

"_No,"_ Zuko screamed as fire erupted on his arms. As his temper soared above the parameters of his control, the flames licked his arms and grew as if they were being fed like a ravenous animal. Ozai felt the heat from his son's flames on his face and was surprised how forcefully he could feel the burn. Zuko pressed himself to the bars and the hungry flames snuck through the iron and inched dangerously close to the prisoner, who could only watch in horror. _How easy would it be, now, to put a scar on his face to match my own? _Zuko considered a burn that would forever mar his father's face; desire for revenge coordinated with the yearning for his long lost mother in an effort to destroy Zuko's sanity and crush it into ash. For too long he had been denied what he wanted; he wasn't going to let a defeated old man tell him "no" again.

"One last time, Ozai," Zuko hissed as he watched his father cower in the corner of the cell. "Give me what I want, or I'll give you what you deserve. I don't have the morals that the Avatar has."

Ozai clawed at his face as if he were experiencing the pain of having the humanity in him shine through. "I don't know!" he cried. "She was banished. Why would she tell _me, _of all people, where she went?"

Zuko's flames lessened to a subtle glow on his arms, like embers on a tired fire. He exhaled to calm himself once again. There was something about his father that broke through his calm resolve and tortured a demon out of him. He didn't know if any sort of practice was likely to make that change. In a moment, his heart slowed and his shoulders dropped. He knew he couldn't endure the pain of another failure, but he prepared himself just the same.

"Give me your best guess then. I guess that's all I can ask of you." It was his turn for his voice to be hardly above a whisper. He felt anything louder and he would release his rage once again, and this time wouldn't be able to stop. "Where would she go? Please, just guess." He took a hasty look at the pathetic man, quivering and shaking. For his sake, Zuko hoped he would spit out an answer. Something inside of him knew that he wouldn't.

"Dali," Ozai whispered, his tone was begrudging but his voice still shook as he spoke. "She was born in Dali and swore that she would die in Dali. If she's anywhere, she's there."

Stunned, Zuko stayed silent. The dim flame within the lantern rose and fell in time with his steady breathing. The room was so quiet that Zuko could have sworn that cotton was rammed into his ears.

"You've been to Dali when you were very little," Ozai spat, still puffing as if the fear had permanently stolen the breath from him. "Surely you remember that pathetic colony town by the coast."

Zuko nodded blankly. Through his head zoomed images of lush grasses and forests hugging a rocky coast and cerulean sea. He'd only been there once, but he remembered it well because he knew that he had seen his mother at her happiest when she was there. Dali suddenly seemed so…obvious.

Ozai smirked as he witnessed Zuko's empty face. "Now get out. I've done what you've asked of me. _Get out!"_

This awoke his son from his dazed stupor. He looked down and emitted a crooked smile, stepping away from the cell. Dali, so simple. Hope arose in his heart for the first time in years. With a relieved sigh, he approached the metal door and gave it a sharp rap to plea his release to the guards. But before the door opened and he was rid of the miserable man that had once been his father, Zuko turned to him with a crafty smile.

"Let's see who was the weak one, eh, Dad," he sneered. "I'm looking forward to proving you wrong." Zuko slammed the door and ran as fast as he could out of the prison and out of his father's life once again.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry it took so long…summer vacation…sure you can guess the rest._

Chapter 5: Dali

It was in the middle of the night when he left the Fire Nation Capital. He went alone; no one knew where he was going and he wouldn't tell them if they asked. It didn't matter if they understood his motive; he didn't care if they thought it was a juvenile and fruitless mission. He knew he had waited too long to be reunited with the woman who had given and ultimately saved his life. Sneaking about in his own harbor seemed necessary, despite having the power to command any vessel at will. A small tugboat wouldn't be missed; he could flee to Dali and be back with his mother by noon. The thought alone made his stomach churn with anticipation. Seven years was far too long. At the mere thought of his mother once again, he touched the hard square in his pocket where the only remaining image of his mother was kept safe.

"I have a feeling that, wherever you're going, won't be a quick trip if you cast off on one of those rinky dink tin cans of yours," Aang's smooth voice spurred out of the darkness. Zuko tensed as his heart froze in his chest in surprise. He glared at the creeping Avatar, but the boy only pointed an incredulous finger at the ship Zuko was attempting to sneak onto. With a scowl, Zuko slid down from the sleek metal ramp and landed sharply before his friend's feet. He hated the bemused look on Aang's face.

"I'm not running away," Zuko hissed defensively. His feverish scar made him look manic. "It's none of your business where I'm going. I'm just going there and back and it won't make the difference to a soul and…"

Aang laughed softly and gestured for Zuko to calm himself. "I didn't say you were running away, Sifu Hotman," Aang smirked. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You're not exactly the Fire Nation's favorite son just yet, are you?"

Zuko scowled and flung a dismissing hand at the boy and turned to re-board the ship. _Who does that brat think he is, _Zuko fumed. _I can handle any rebellious thug. _ He could feel light sparks scurry down his arms at the mere thought of his incompetence. With a threatening scowl, he spun on his feet and stomped away from the Avatar.

"I am questioning your mode of transportation, though. Appa would be much faster!" Aang jumped lithely into the air and touched down on the deck before the charging Fire Lord.

As if on cue, a low rumble was heard from off in the distance. Zuko peered over his shoulder and saw the massive bison gnawing at his paws behind storage lockers. When he noticed the Fire Lord's stare, Appa gave his paw a final lick and glared at his intruder as if he were questioning a challenge. Zuko shook his head in amazement and rubbed the back of his neck. "You'd trust me with Appa?"

Aang shrugged. "Zuko, I'd trust you with Appa and so much more. That's what friends do."

All the breath left Zuko's lungs and he looked at the younger boy in amazement. It always surprised him when he reflected on just how much things had changed in the past couple years. Though, the younger boy's face was maturing quickly, Zuko was easily reminded of the times when Aang had once given him alternate glares of fear and hatred. Now he was offering him his priceless mode of transportation and friend. All Zuko could do was stare.

As the full realization of the Avatar's offer washed over him, the elated Fire Lord rushed down the gang plank and seized the boy around his skinny frame. Aang laughed. Hugging wasn't something that Zuko was fully accustomed to, but slowly it was becoming a second nature to him. "Better be careful," Aang gasped from within Zuko's crushing grip. "If anyone sees you, they'd think you've gone soft." Immediately Zuko recoiled from his friend's touch and released an embarrassed grimace. Aang laughed, mindful of the sleeping night, and stepped to the side of Zuko, allowing a straight path to the air bison. Without a second more's delay, Zuko sped past the other boy and sailed onto the bison's saddle with the agility of an airbender.

"Go get her, Sifu Hotman," Aang murmured with a knowing smile.

"Yip yip," Zuko urged eagerly. Appa thrust his mighty form into the air as if he himself was pressed by excitement to meet Zuko's mother. Flying higher and higher into the night's clear sky, Zuko reflected on his journey to this very moment. Once faced with failure and hopeless yearnings, now there was no cloud in sight. But the night held no beauty for him. He shut his eyes tight and envisioned a face so distant in his memory that he had often feared he would forget it: Her sharply curved face, always soft to the touch and eased with a gentle smile; golden eyes, so full of love; arms that would wrap him tight whenever the world was unfair. The world had been so unfair to him; only her arms would make him forget all of that.

* * *

><p>The gray overcast sky hugged close to the foliage covered mountains of Dali. Lush green vegetation clung to the seaside cliffs like damp moss on the side of trees, releasing a tranquil aroma of crisp life. Sparse rays of dawn peeked through the heavy clouds, illuminating the world in a soft orange haze. Zuko absorbed the dawn and relished the energy surging down his limbs through his muscles, stiff from a night slumped in the crook of Appa's neck. The saddle was too lonely, now as he was traveling alone, and did nothing to curve his bouncing nerves. As the jagged jade outline of Dali ballooned on the horizon, hints of clean laundry and salty dumplings attacked his nose. Yet his cries of his hungry stomach were nothing in comparison to the longing pains of his heart.<p>

Despite the ominous storm clouds pushing in from the sea, Zuko felt tranquil when he first laid eyes on the peaceful fisherman's village that was so near to the chartreuse blue water he figured the surf must have just pushed it up onto the hillside. Things looked so simple; passive and mundane. The tropical foliage and powerful rush of the rolling waves reminded him of a paradise he had only seen in calligraphic sketches. Zuko was glad that his mother might be found here of all places; it was much more ideal than demonic, war-ridden places that he had seen in his panicked nightmares.

He vaguely remembered the scene before him from a whisper of memory, but the whole island seemed different now as he saw it with much older eyes. It was if the world had taken one mighty inhale, and was holding her breath until she knew it was safe. Zuko understood the feeling quite well.

"Down there Appa," Zuko pointed to sandy spot underneath swaying palm trees that would hopefully harbor safety for the borrowed animal. As Appa hovered painfully closer to the ground, Dali's quiet dawn held no beauty for Zuko anymore. Instead of a quaint village, just rising to meet the new day, his mind flashed back to his arrival in Ba Sing Se. Alleys and buildings and person after person stretching for miles on end. Ba Sing Se was an everlasting labyrinth of false hopes and disappointments. Zuko was just one of its many victims. Dali seemed so small, but with his luck, Zuko knew that his mother was probably hiding in the minutest crack, far from his prying eyes.

"What do I do now," Zuko muttered to the indifferent breeze, hard knots were forming in his stomach. In a well-timed reply, Appa grumbled gently and nipped at the young man's pants, pushing him forward to the point of almost falling head first in the sand. "I guess that's an idea," Zuko hissed as he swatted sand from his trousers. "Heal…stay?" Zuko looked firmly at Appa, who looked back with a mighty impassive gaze. Effortlessly, he ripped a massive branch from the palm tree and began to gnaw on it like an infant would a teething ring. With that, Zuko took in one more encouraging breath before setting off into an uncertain future.

He was surprised, when he passed through the primitive gates of Dali, at how many people were already bustling to and fro, getting on with the day in the same manner they had done undisturbed all of their lives. These people were far from poverty; they lived in a colony settled so long ago that everyone lived comfortable and humbly, each thriving off of the back of the other, whether that back was decorated with red cloth or green. Faded stucco with sturdy grass roofs closed tightly in on the street, but everyone passed each other by with no difficulty and with far off expressions of amity on their faces.

Zuko could hardly withhold his sensations of frantic search as he looked deeply into the faces of every woman, hoping for a positive match. He couldn't imagine that her mother's face would be too marred by age; though he knew that she couldn't possibly recognize him from the seven years they had spent apart. But no one seemed tall enough or graceful enough or anywhere near beautiful enough; had he forgotten what she looked like after all this time? Before his fury and frustration could best him, he thrust himself against a wall and observed the thickening crowd in silence.

With a heavy sigh, he dug deep in his pockets and withdrew the smooth paper. The daguerreotype [**A/N: early photographs…like civil war stuff…like the Royal Family picture on Ember Island] **was crinkled and faded from being the victim of years' worth of age, anger, and neglect. Zuko attempted to knead out the fold line out of his mother's porcelain face to no avail. He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey son, if you're not hungry, then quit blocking my stall!"

Zuko spun around, searching for any confrontation, but was only faced with a wrinkly man lifting the garage of his street side stall. The man's shifty eyes flitted between Zuko's face and his exposed tray of hot buns, fresh for selling to the fishermen. "Do you want a roll or something, son," he said in a lighter voice. "The wife just finished them; fresh out of the oven."

Zuko nodded and fished a few copper pieces out of his pocket, setting the photograph face down on the stall's ledge. He nodded at the elderly man's tough small talk, though his near lectures of the perfect time for fishing sounded like a complete different language. Zuko was surprised to find how much he relished the warm cinnamon bread heating him from the inside like a homey flame when the peddler tapped him firmly on the crook of his elbow, demanding his attention.

"Hey, is that one of those photo-giraffe doohickeys?" He pointed a wrinkled finger and the glossy paper lying dangerously close to a melting pat of butter.

Zuko quickly rescued it from oily demised and looked it over, protectively. His mother still looked back at him with eyes that challenged him. _Find me if you dare. _He shook his head. "Photo_graph," _Zuko said in between hearty chews. "I'm going to try to use it to find someone I've lost. I figured that now would be a good time to start looking, the war being over and all."

The man nodded, comprehensively. For a moment his eyes darted up, excited, as a group of burly fisherman sauntered past his shop, but then returned his gaze to the younger man. "Ah, I know what you mean, kid. You're not the first one to come to Dali looking for refugees. Can't tell you what the success rate has been…but maybe I could tell you whether I saw your person." He held his hand out expectantly.

Zuko hesitated handing over the picture, unsure about the worth of the man's grimy fingers with something so precious to his heart. _I've got to get started somewhere, _he grudgingly convinced himself. He winced as the man carried the picture from him to look at it in a better light. The man had his back to the counter, so Zuko could not hope to see any promising look in his face. However, the man's frame did become curiously still. "Hmmm—yes," the man grumbled, as he judged his mother's exquisite facial features. "I can't imagine how we would get such a noble looking broad in little Dali," Zuko scowled, but listened intently as the man continued, "but she does look oddly familiar though. Lemme' talk to my old lady for a moment."

And there he left Zuko, mouth agape and fire surging through his gut. _Oddly familiar. _Never had such words evoked such emotions of parallel hope and fear in him. He felt so close to seeing his mother after seven long years. Every time he blinked, he felt sure that his mother's kind face would appear before him; just as loving as it had the last time he had laid eyes on her. Unfortunately, it was merely the old man who reappeared in the stall. But now, along with the picture, he held a limp sheet of paper.

"The most I could get out of my wife was some directions so you could go talk to some lady who might know. Sorry I couldn't get more kid, I'm sure you know how women are. They're so…"

Unable to control his vigor any longer he whisked the papers out of the man's hand and sprinted off into town, not even pausing to read the paper. "Thank you!" he bellowed over his shoulder as he ran. Late summer rain was starting to trickle down to earth and began to slap Zuko in the face as he raced. Protective over the priceless information balled up in his hand, he once again hurled himself under the cover of a stall awning to squint at the directions written hastily upon a clean paper napkin.

_Go to the South Side of Dali_

_Go up Xiu Mountain Road for 2 miles_

_2__nd__ fork in the road turn left_

_Farm house in the side of the mountain_

Before comprehension of the words even came to his mind, he was off like a flash once again.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed and for keeping with me through this. Hope you enjoy. _

Chapter 6: A Familiar Face

Though he knew that each step was quicker than the last, Zuko had the mindboggling sensation that the world around him was slowing down. The trees swayed so slow that they performed a sensual dance with the salty breeze. His heartbeat felt measured and steady, and his mind was so focused on one thought that even his brain felt like it was crawling up the mountain side at a turtle's pace. Climbing the mountains felt very literally like it had completely taken all of the seven years it took for him to even get to this point. Everything seemed so slow, so unreal. He was going to see his mother again.

He had already advanced up the mount with at a fiery speed before he saw the second fork in the road beneath his feet. Zuko didn't have to look at his make-shift map again; he had the exact directions memorized. But as soon as he pivoted to the perpendicular road, he slowed to a light-footed stroll. Each step felt tedious and forced, yet he pushed himself ever forward. Though he couldn't see ahead to a farmhouse planted in the side of the mountain, the sea of wheat and grain foreshadowed its imminent presence. Gently, almost lovingly, he caressed the wheat as it flowed through his fingers like amber water. He felt like a hero coming home from war at long last; here to save the troubled souls of both his mother and himself. Zuko closed his eyes after a heavy sigh and forced this moment into his memory forever. He knew not whether his mother would be at this farm house or not, but he liked to imagine that it would be her and her alone who greeted him at the door.

Upon opening his eyes again a ramshackle farm house compiled of weak wood and coarse grass emerged out of the lava-rock mountain side as if it had grown there along with all of the other foliage and underbrush. Though it appeared barren and neglected, it didn't lack a sense of homey charm and serenity. It beckoned him closer, and slowly he felt a smile of hope creeping onto his face.

"Take that you mighty dragon!" a small, but commanding, voice squeaked out into the early morning. Zuko craned his head in amusement, expecting to view a farm child's mock battle. As he scaled higher and higher on the dusty road, a little boy's head rose above the grain field. The child's face was crumpled with intent concentration, but his full head of hair was so chaotic that Zuko estimated him to be fresh out of bed. Watching the little boy prance around in the clearing reminded him of the farm boy, Li, whom he had met from his solo travels. But this boy seemed lighter, in both spirit and complexion; his skin was the milkiest ivory and his hair the color of fresh ink. His enemy was the metal pole that Zuko presumed the boy's mother used for hanging the clothes line, rather than enemies of Fire Nation or corrupt Earth Kingdom soldiers. Innocence was hung about him like an aura of light.

"I've got you now!" the boy squeaked as he advanced closer to the metal spike like a crafty ninja. "You're nothing against me, the mighty Kazuo, and my trusty steed: Goose-Pup!" As if on command a spotted goose-pup yipped threateningly at the tall pole as if it actually were a ferocious dragon come to take the boy as its midmorning snack. Zuko grinned as the boy tossed himself into a clumsy spin in midair and landed shakily before the pole. "Oh, trying to sneak up on me from behind, eh, dragon? Well in that case…_take this!" _The child landed firmly in a stance, arms outstretched and propelled his hands forward, releasing a flurry of sparks followed by a stream of orange flame. Though the pole was unmoved by the heated fury, it was marked by an ashen scorch along its length. Zuko's expression turned from one of amusement to amazement. As the flames cleared and a proud smile appeared on the boy's lips, Zuko's jaw dropped. He uttered an inaudible "_Wow"._

The goose-pup's yapping was incessant noise in the background, but it soon became obvious to both of the boys in the yard that the animal was no longer barking at the imaginary foe. The goose-pup waddled menacingly at the intruder approaching the farmhouse. Zuko and the boy's eyes met in surprise. Gold met gold.

Before Zuko could even attempt to cry out a greeting, the young child hastily wiped the dirt from his hands and went sprinting towards the house. The slap of the back door sounded especially harsh to Zuko's ears. He sighed. _Scaring them; not exactly the best way to make a good impression, Zuko, _he chastised himself as he pressed on towards the house. He only had to knock once when the think plank for a door sailed open to reveal the face of an elderly woman. Her weary green eyes were scrutinizing and quizzical, searching for any threat to her quiet home. Slowly, she narrowed the door until she gazed up at Zuko's eyes only through a sliver of space.

"Yes," she croaked simply. Her attitude was much stronger than her frail, aged body. Zuko humbly shuffled his feet and attempted to look as harmless as possible.

"Uh…yes—hello ma'am. A woman in town gave me directions here; her husband said you can help me with something. Someone I'm looking for."

The door opened a fraction of a bit wider. "Well," the woman sighed, waiting for him to continue.

Zuko coughed, awkwardly. "Well, uh, here is her picture. Please, ma'am, anyway you can help would be great; she's my mother and I haven't seen her for a very long time."

She opened the door all the way, once again, to grab the photograph between her arthritic fingers. Zuko could see the firebending child in the shadows of the back of the house. They both narrowed their eyes at each other, questioningly. But the old woman's heavy sigh attracted Zuko's attention with frightening magnetism. He could not, however, read the woman's expression through her heavily wrinkled face.

"Come on in, young man."

He complied simply. The house was dark and dank; the only light that shown on the squeaky wood was a small square window from within the kitchen. Zuko sat at a fragile looking chair where she pointed. When she delivered a tray of tea to the table, the woman sat down herself and looked seriously at Zuko. He bit at his lips in nervous anticipation.

The old woman took a careful sip from her plain tea cup before clearing her throat to speak. "So you're Sura's son. I've heard bits and pieces of her past, but I had no clue that it involved something so…dear. "

Zuko took a mighty swig of tea to calm his quaking throat. "Her name is Ursa, ma'am. Not Sura.'

"It's indifferent to me," she shrugged. "Most refugees change their name on their journeys. Especially those in as precarious a situation as she apparently was. I don't know everything, mind you, just enough to know that she wasn't the run-off- the-mill refugee."

Zuko nodded, a grim smile growing above his chin. "That's for sure. So do you know her very well? Where is she? Can I see her soon?"

Exasperated, the woman patted the air with her hands in order to plea for his silence. "Hush, child…I can answer all of your questions in time. First, how about you tell me what _you _know of your mother?"

Zuko's eager smile quickly faded into an annoyed frown. He stood up from his seat and leaned over the table, nearing menace. "What kind of question is that? I know she's my mother and I know that I want to find her—right now!"

"Sit down, son," the old woman commanded, her voice beginning to quake.

Zuko struggled to retain his composure; fire was licking at his stomach like a burning whip. "I'd rather not," he said through clenched teeth. "Where is my mother?"

"You're not going to find her here, son," she said simply. Her coarse voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. "Nor," she continued softly, "anywhere else I'm afraid." His hopes suddenly screeched to a halt like a speeding cart.

He shook his head ferociously. Zuko felt like he could vomit all the disbelief coursing like freezing water through his blood stream. "What?" he breathed. Each breath felt harder and harder to come by.

"I'm so sorry, son," the woman rubbed her face with a massaging hand. "She passed on a month ago, just after the war ended. It was a mysterious sickness that coursed through Dali. Sura went very fast and…"

"_Her name is Ursa," _Zuko roared. He brought a cruel fist down on the table as pain and utter heartbreak coursed through him. He couldn't think; but what he felt was the same hopeless emotion he had felt for the past seven years. He was still without his mother; now he always would be. Tears clawed at his eyes, begging for freedom, but Zuko clenched them back with all of the pride he could muster. He knew it was not a battle he could win indefinitely. He spun away from the woman's pitying glance and began to storm towards the door.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time," Zuko groaned. "I'll just be going now."

No sooner did he open the door did the old woman leap from her seat with surprising agility and rushed to grasp his arm. "Wait, child," she pleaded. He wouldn't allow her to continue. She attempted to tug him back in the house, and in the small struggle a thick tear escaped Zuko's good eye, blinding him from the cruel world.

With a weighted sigh, the woman patted him gently on the shoulder. "Don't be too hasty to leave your mother's memory behind, young man," she murmured. "You'd be doing her and yourself a terrible disservice."

Zuko didn't turn to face her. So she continued, carefully. "Your mother—Ursa—left behind a legacy; albeit small and humble. I think she had a feeling someone would come looking for her one day."

Slowly, Zuko turned to look at her out of the side of his eye. His curious eyes fought through the pained expression on his face. Yet, her words were slow to register. "Where are her ashes," he rasped. "Or did you bury her in Earth Kingdom fashion." He was indifferent to the accusation in his voice.

The woman's green eyes were wide with pity. "We buried her beneath the cherry tree where she always meditated. You'll see it in the yard, a ways there. I planted a yellow rose bush over her; she always liked those."

Zuko couldn't bear to look in the direction she pointed; his feet merely shuffled along the mud logged grass. The woman let him go. Years of pain and waste weighted down his feet as he veered to the cherry tree curving with the slope of the mountain side. His shoes grew waterlogged and muddy from trudging through the damp yard, and he didn't know to stop walking until a beautiful rosebush adorned with delicate yellow roses came into his path. Gingerly, his fingers glanced the roses, making the diamond rain droplets resting on the petals dance before gracefully dripping to the ground. Sparse shoots of green grass emerged from the waterlogged dirt that covered his mother's grave. However the contemptible dirt covering his mother's frame was invisible to Zuko, whose eyes were glued to the roses. The rain made the roses bounce up and down mockingly.

A heavy exhale brought Zuko down to his knees. His fingers dug hungrily into the earth; as always, wanting what he could never have. "Hello, mother," his lips moved but no noise came out. "Sorry I'm late," his shoulders shook and his eyes shut tight. Zuko couldn't bear to see the world anymore. Tears leaked through his unscarred eye, open wide enough only to see his white knuckled hand. As he flexed his hand white electricity crackled and sizzled on palm. Like a flower taking root, the electricity curled and twisted around his fingers until a rose of bright blue flame erupted from his grip.

A saddened smile tugged at his lips as he lifted the glowing flower to eye level. It was beautiful, but this symbol did nothing to ease his sorrow. "I can never match your gift to me Mom," Zuko stated in a firm voice, "but I can say thank you." Like setting a newborn child in a cradle, Zuko eased down his flaming creation before the rose bush and watched as it shone above all the rest, holding back its burn but not its beauty. Though Zuko smiled, he knew this little demonstration was nothing compared to his mother's sacrifice.

"Wow." An awestruck little voice broke the silence. Zuko's eyes didn't have to be torn from the blue flame to know who was slowly creeping out from behind the rose bush. The little boy, hands and knees both pressing deeply into the dirt with each crawl, emerged from the leaves and the thorns to risk sitting close to Zuko. Zuko neither looked at nor acknowledged him.

"I wish I could do that for mom," the child mused as he awkwardly picked at the itchy grass. "She always said she loved watching me. Sometimes I still come to practice my forms here. I don't know a lot, but I like to think that she still smiles while I do it."

Nothing betrayed Zuko's burning curiosity as he turned to face the boy. Though his face remained calm, his body tensed as soon as he saw the child's features. Though not in a top knot, the boy's downy black hair did not hide the familiar face beneath the locks. A pointy chin fenced in a slender nose and a ready smile, mirroring that of the mother Zuko now knew he would never see again. Golden eyes, flecked with yellow and auburn dots, stared peculiarly back at him. They were Ozai's eye's; they were his own eye's. What he saw was his own face, preserved through years of innocence and naiveté; no scar of flame or of struggle had yet marred the young face. His fingers yearned to reach out and touch the coveted face, but the child's next question stopped his hand in mid-air.

"Thank you for doing that for my mom. Did you know her well?" The boy's questions flew out of his mouth with incredible speed, and he waited with struggling patience for an answer. "Show me how," he demanded, with a light smile.

Zuko shook his head before taking the boy's clumsy hands in his. At the first touch it occurred to him: _He's my brother. _Zuko paused and smiled. He had never felt so instantly enthralled with another human before. He wondered if this is how uncle felt whenever he was trying to teach him.

"Cup your hands like so, keep yourself loose and flexible. Yes like that. Make a small flame." The child's flame hiccupped to creation and flickered humbly in his hand. Zuko moved his small brother's hands in small circles and pushes until the red flame took a liberal shape of a puffy rose. A proud wide grin spread across the younger boy's face. Eagerly, he placed the cooler rose next to his brother's blue flames. Together the flames, red and blue, swirled together into orange orbs before loftily being extinguished in a tendril of warm smoke. The brothers smiled.

"My name is Kazuo," the child said. He stuck out his hand in a friendly gesture.

"I'm Zuko."

"She came here about seven years ago," the woman said. Both Zuko and Kazuo spun around to see the old woman approaching them slowly, afraid to ruin the tender moment. In her hands she clutched a worn leather-bound journal with envelopes sticking out of the pages. Envelopes that Zuko knew were addressed to the family Ursa had left behind. "I don't know what she had been through before that, but by the time she arrived she was near ready to give birth. She's stayed here quietly with me ever since."

"Are you talking about Mom," Kazuo questioned innocently.

The woman nodded and came closer. "Years ago, before her family moved back to the Fire Nation, I was her nanny. They were good people, her parents; they didn't treat me any different from being an Earthen woman. I figured Su—Ursa thought she would be safe her with me. Sorry about calling her Sura, son, I got used to calling her by her refugee name."

Zuko stood to look the woman in the eye, but she continued. "I'm sure you already put two and two together, Fire Lord Zuko. This child," she walked to stand above Kazuo, "this child here—is her son. He is your…"

"Brother," Zuko finished her sentence with a far off voice. He looked towards the rose bush once more.

Kazuo, however, jumped to his feet and looked awestruck between the nanny and the stranger. "What?" he demanded in an exasperated voice. "I have a brother?" He looked accusingly at Zuko. "Tell me what is going on!"

Zuko hesitated for a long while before answering. "My name is Zuko. I am the newest Fire Lord to the Fire Nation, and firebending instructor to Avatar Aang. I am son of Ursa."

"And…so am I?"

Zuko nodded, then retracted the damp photograph from his pocket to hand to young Kazuo. The boy took it without questioning, and looked at it with eyes wide with confusion and pain. Without warning, the boy fled with the picture towards the house. The woman called after him, and Zuko's shoulders slumped in defeat. While the elderly woman went running after his brother, he sat down once more and meditated above the grave of roses.

* * *

><p>He remained in that thoughtful position until the nanny called him in for supper time. Zuko endured the intercalary hours of rain and intense sunshine that with indifferent poise. So much was running through his mind that it seemed that his body didn't have time to move. He had guessed that his life would change drastically after this day, but he expected to be taking home a woman, not a six year old boy. From the first time he saw the child's familiar face, he knew that Kazuo was his responsibility as a capable elder brother. He wondered how elated Uncle Iroh would be to know that now he had another nephew to mold and form into an honorable man. Zuko knew that Uncle would do a better job than he could ever hope for in raising his younger brother. He had a myriad of issues with the world and the nation combined into a 247 job that he would hold claim to for the rest of his life. His own father was completely unable to balance both single parenting and ruling a nation in a way that Zuko often wondered how he didn't turn out worse than he had. But then he remembered Azula rotting away in an asylum, safe from others and herself. Zuko's instinct told him that he _had _to do right by this sibling. He and his sister were as much as a debacle as Iroh and Ozai had been; perhaps he and Kazuo could break the mean streak. It's what his mother would have wanted.

Kazuo did escape the confines of the ramshackle house every so often to try to sneak a peek at his new brother. He attempted to spy from behind the rose bush or far away, but he couldn't faze the older boy. Eventually, he was just content to sit down next to Zuko and wait patiently as best as a six year old can. "Nanny said it's time to come in for supper," Kazuo mumbled when the silence became too much for him. Without waiting for Zuko to respond, he sped off towards the house again, as fleet footed as a deer-dingo. Zuko pulled the bison-whistle that Aang had lent him out of his pocket in order to call for Appa. He didn't intent on staying long after dinner; hopefully Kazuo was of similar sentiments. Within no time at all, the bison's hulking form was lowering itself onto the lawn like a bumblebee on a flower. The _thud_ brought the nanny and Kazuo's heads peeking out the door.

"Oh, wow!" Kazuo gasped as he came running outside to Zuko's side. Zuko smiled as the child repeated his impressed exclamations over and over again.

"Kazuo, meet Appa. He will be taking us back to the Fire Nation after dinner"

The smile dropped from Kazuo's face and was replaced with a skeptical frown. "What will I do in the Fire Nation, Fire Lord Zuko?"

Zuko smiled. "Just Zuko. You will be taught by the finest instructors in the nation in scholarship and firebending, just like I was. Ultimately you will have a better life than anything else you can imagine. I'll make sure of that."

The glorious illusions that flitted through the child's mind made him grin, but he remembered himself when he heard his nanny's chuckle.

"Are you going to be ok, nanny? How could I leave you?"

The old woman guffawed and knelt to kiss his soft cheek. "My boy, I'll be better when I know you are in better hands than my own. There is nothing I can give you here that he can't. This man," she turned Kazuo around to face Zuko once more, "this man will take care of you."

Kazuo approached Zuko, his eyes glossy as if he were staring into the face of a fantastical hero. "Really," he asked.

Zuko knelt eyelevel with the boy and held his shoulder firmly. "Really. I will _always_ take care of you no matter what. This, I promise"

Kazuo smiled. The strong resemblance to their mother's smile compelled Zuko to hug the boy close to him. He knew he was taking a piece of his mother home with him after all, and as they would live, so would she.


End file.
